Lazy
by DevonWren
Summary: Blaine just wants a day of absolutely nothing. But when he realises that he really can't resist spending it with Kurt, it turns into a day of absolutely everything that matters. KLAINE, mind, so if you don't like it, then... how could you not like Klaine?


_**Hi there! Just putting a rough idea down on paper – wrote this this afternoon, so I hope it isn't toooo shoddy – as it may well be.**_

_**Also, I'm English, so there will probs be a hell of a lot of wrong words etc, 'cos these characters are meant to be American. **_

_**Anyway PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! And I hope you enjoy it!**_

Lazy

Today he didn't feel like doing anything.

The sun through the gap in his curtains cut a yellow shaft of light over his face, teasing his eyes open. He blinked twice. Snuggling deeper under his duvet, he inhaled unused sleep, washing powder and summer, and listened to the sound of an absent family downstairs.

Ten minutes later he saw his reflection in the mirror opposite his bed, staring into the mist covering his eyes, his arms rested limp on the duvet either side of him, a small smirk had tugged on the corner of his mouth. Memories of last night's popcorn-even-though-Kurt's-on-a-perpetual-diet-and-movie-extravaganza crept into his mind, and the smirk soon became a smile.

He muttered his boyfriend's name. Just because he could.

Blaine was lazy getting out of bed, that Sunday morning, lazy washing his face, lazy when he didn't comb or gel his hair, lazy when he ate cereal out the packet, lazy when he got back into bed, lazy when he rejected the call from Rachel that buzzed on his cell phone. If he could help it, he'd be totally alone today, without friends, without family, without the pleasure of Kurt's company. He wanted the chance to bask in the orange glow of happiness without feeling the need to spend the time _doing stuff_.

The inside fur of his slippers were sticky and warm under his duvet, his palms much the same – especially when it reached ten o'clock and the sun was ever-more insistent on frying his carpet. He had a crazy second when he remembered exactly what the skin of Kurt's hand felt like in his own, as he remembered how soft it had felt, and how soft it made his heart. Like putty. Like it had completely melted. Like Kurt had full control, but the smile on his face told him he really couldn't care less. He remembered how blue Kurt's eyes were, yet how grey they were and how green; how brown his hair was, and then how blonde, and how bronze; how wide and perfect his smile was, how thin it could be, how mocking, how warm, how _everything_. Then he remembered that he could see all of these things again, just by picking up his phone.

It glared at him from its confident position on his bed-side table, the time – 10:46 – winking at him as it traced a path around the screen, daring him to call – just type 1 into speed-dial – just to hear his voice – just to ask him '_Hey, are you busy, 'cos I've got the house to myself, and I miss you already_'. He could imagine how Kurt's face might smile at his boyfriend's lack of will-power, silently down the phone, and how that smile could either be wide and perfect, thin, mocking, warm or everything. Itching at his sides, he held his fingers still, trying to concentrate on thinking nothing. Repeating the words 'Palm trees' over and over in the hope that some unrelated thought might come to him.

It took a further half hour for Blaine to realise that, under no circumstances did he ever have to resist calling Kurt, or resist talking to him, or thinking about him, or just... whatever. If Kurt was there, with him, immaculate because he'd never be able to come round to Blaine's house without being appropriately attired, a diamond next to the shabby mess that Blaine had become over the space of twelve hours, then they could be lazy and do nothing together. Like in the movies or in songs.

He thought Kurt might be all like '_Blaine, what's happened to your hair?'_ then make some sarcastic, but adorable, quip about Blaine having lost his touch or being horribly sentimental and ridiculous. Kurt would lead the way upstairs, because, as Kurt always seems to know everything, he'd have anticipated their destination from the second he got the phone call. They'd tumble onto the bed, surrounded by cotton, goose-feather, sunlight and what might be love, and neither of them would be able to help smiling when this time Blaine took the initiative and pressed their lips together. They'd be like that, amongst conversation and pointless banter, of course, until that one strip of sunlight had panned the entire room – a cinematic touch he thought Kurt would appreciate, a symbolic reference to the passing of a moment in time that neither boy would care too much to pay attention to. For them, time would stop, slow down and speed up all at once, become just a figure of speech. '_Yesterday_' would become '_today_', '_in ten years time_' might become '_last week_', '_forever_' might become... well, perhaps that would remain '_forever'_, for the sake of the romantics.

The thought of Kurt's small face, turned somewhat grey in the shadow, smiling up at him and asking if he was feeling okay, if he'd had any breakfast, if he wanted any fruit juice, if he needed any medication... if he was quite all right just lying there for the whole day. Blaine would reply negative to every question except the last, and Kurt would grin wider and more perfect with every word that left his mouth, as he had a tendency to do. And Blaine would cross the boundary that he had felt held-down by for a significant two-thirds of their relationship. He would tell Kurt that he loved him. And maybe, if he was lucky, very _very_ lucky, Kurt might say it back. Only if he meant it... he wouldn't want to force Kurt into admitting feelings he's never felt. Unclouding his eyes, and glancing once more at his reflection in the mirror, Blaine realised how terrible it might be if Kurt didn't feel the same...

Phone in hand, he looked for the time as it danced around, tempting him – get on with it, Dammit – on the screen. 10:57. Cutting it fine. He dialled the number and waited for the click on the other end. It rung once. Twice. Three times before Kurt's voice greeted him.

'Hi, Blaine.' It was sweet and light, as if it had just drifted around the telephone wires, not urgent enough, not in enough of a hurry, to scram in with all the other voices.

'Hi, Kurt.'

There was a small silence whilst Blaine decided how to phrase the question – in the end, he went with his instinct – the fantasy in his head that seemed to be playing on repeat.

'Hey, are you busy? It's just that I've got the house to myself, and...' he fumbled, and cursed his momentary failing (when it came to dapperness. Really one swift glance in the mirror should have told him his dapperness had remained in his wardrobe since he decided on doing absolutely nothing for the entire day),

'And what, Blaine?'

'and I miss you already.'

Kurt giggled down the line, sending unnecessary shockwaves down Blaine's spine and summoning a brilliant grin. 'I miss you too,' the answer was almost whispered, as if Kurt was deliberately teasing him, making him want a day full of absolutely everything except nothing. 'Wait a minute, I'll just check if I've got anything planned,' Blaine listened avidly to the rustling that was Kurt pretending to see if he was busy. 'No, I seem to have the whole day free.' His words were stretched as his smiled them to his boyfriend, a kind of 'ee' sound behind each syllable.

'Great,' Blaine said, as gently as he could, for fear of sounding over eager, 'how long will you be?'

'I can make it in twenty minutes'.

Blaine lay in bed for eighteen of those minutes, debating on whether a shower was necessary, or whether he should at least get changed out of his pyjamas, of if he should gel his hair. But wouldn't gelled hair look odd with nightwear, and wet hair might look worse, revealing to Kurt his initial intentions and presenting him as a bit of a slob. He'd had a shower and then put his pyjamas straight back on. And if he did all three, well, then, that destroyed the concept of a day full of everything except nothing (as it had now progressed to be). Instead, he stayed exactly how he was, until he heard the doorbell ring – at which point he suddenly realised he was in no state to receive his boyfriend, but found himself with no other choice.

Kurt face was radiant as it laughed at him in the doorway, thin, elegant fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that seemed to be trying to flee Blaine's head. He didn't ask what had happened to his hair, only said that he loved it. And there was that word again, and it seemed to kick-start something in both of them, and Kurt threw himself into the dishevelled Blaine's arms and kissed him there and then. In the doorway. Not having anticipated a want to take this upstairs. For a moment, though, when Kurt trailed his tongue along Blaine's lower lip, all thoughts of a perfect day were replaced by thoughts of an extraordinary one.

Kurt pulled away after a number of seconds that neither of them could count or understand, because Blaine had been quite certain that time was not an object for them. And only then did he venture the question 'so what did you have planned?'.

Blaine was tempted to respond with '_absolutely nothing_', but instead went with 'absolutely everything'. At which, Kurt smiled again. Perfect, but not wide. He would have to add this one to his list: the sort of smile that makes you think everything in the world is exactly how it should be, that every planet has aligned with the others, all channelling a huge amount of energy into a single moment, bending time and space to make two lives revolve in unison around a single second; a smile that made him think he'd never have to move, or think, or watch TV, or read books, or go to school, yet still know all the secrets of the universe. Such understanding and humanity that many had not seen in one of Kurt's smiles, as if Kurt had deliberately ruined Blaine's perfect day only to make it better.

It was now, and only now, that Kurt let them find their way upstairs and into the smothering heat of that cotton and those goose-feathers and that sunlight and that burning feeling that they were both now almost certain was definitely love. But Kurt never asked Blaine if he was ill, or hungry, or thirsty, or anything like that, because Kurt, as Blaine had thought, did know everything, so, in situations like this, felt no need to ask.

And the sunlight panned the room as they lay amongst conversation and pointless banter, and Blaine remarked how it made time feel as if it existed, but at the same time, was of no object, or meaning. And Kurt laughed and slapped him playfully on the hand that was joined with his, trying to lighten the mood, but secretly revelling in the boy's sensitivity. They contemplated their reflections in the mirror, and neither boy tried to put themselves down, because Blaine both was and wasn't looking his best, and Kurt was just too happy that he had someone who seemed to love him whatever he looked like.

And there was that word again, in amongst their thoughts and brushing all the indecision under the flaming carpet, just for time enough for the word to find a shape in Blaine's mouth. On the tip of his tongue. In his throat and chest. and he could feel it so clearly, and it was burning inside him and he let it build up and build up – like those volcanoes kids made with vinegar and baking soda – until he wanted to scream it from wherever. But then Kurt beat him to it. Tugging on his arm so he was forced to look, that power so close to making a sound, but Kurt had said 'Blaine, I love you' quicker than he'd anticipated.

Stunned, he lay there, feeling the power die down inside him, fizzling into an all-encompassing exultancy. To hear that word, between I and you. He felt complete, like the crazy teenage dream that had brought them together both that first day and today; so complete, in fact, that for a good ten seconds, Kurt was under the impression that Blaine wasn't going to say it back.

When he did, he realised that although today had been a day of absolutely everything and nothing all at the same time, it was also a day of bits and pieces and loose ends and something that goes beyond reality.

As the clock on his phone danced around the time 5:21, Kurt remarked that damn it, he'd left the muffins in the car.

_**Hope you enjoyed it, I certainly enjoyed writing it – just got it out my system I think, which is always good, seeing as how much revision I have to do.**_

_**Sorry if the sentences were a little too long in places – I tend to do that, 'cos in my head it makes it mean something extra, but I don't know if that comes across in text.**_

_**Thanks, reviews are amazing, as always!**_


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